Chapter 2

Lena stared at the sleek black business card for the fourth time that morning.

Blackthorne Enterprises. 77th Floor. Midtown Tower.

It sat like a dare on her nightstand, taunting her with promises she had no business entertaining.

Ten thousand dollars a week. That was the offer.

She could clear her debt, move her brother into a better school, stop worrying if the lights would stay on. Just a few months of work.

But working for him?

Rafael Blackthorne was the kind of man who ruined women like her. Men like him didn’t care who they scorched as long as they stayed warm. And yet… something in his eyes told her he wasn’t as cold as he pretended to be.

So she dressed carefully—black jeans, a fitted blazer over a plain tee, and her cleanest boots—and stepped into the mirrored elevator that took her to the 77th floor.

She hated how fast her heart was beating.

When the doors slid open, she stepped into a different world.

Glass walls. Marble floors. A quiet hum of power in the air. A receptionist with red lips and a headset gave her a once-over, clearly unimpressed.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked.

“No,” Lena replied, holding up the card. “But he asked me to come.”

The receptionist’s eyes flickered with recognition. “Name?”

“Lena Carter.”

One phone call and thirty seconds later, she was being escorted past a long corridor lined with men in suits who barely glanced up as she passed. At the end was a massive black glass door.

It opened.

And there he was.

Rafael stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back turned, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a tumbler of something golden. Manhattan stretched behind him like a conquered kingdom.

“You came,” he said without looking.

“I’m not staying,” she replied coolly, walking in. “I’m just here to tell you in person that I don’t appreciate being stalked into employment.”

He turned then, slow and smooth. His dark eyes met hers, calm and unreadable.

“I made you an offer.”

“You made a transactional insult disguised as an offer.”

“Ten thousand a week is insulting?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Because you think money fixes everything.”

He stepped closer. “It doesn’t. But it buys time. And control. Two things you clearly need.”

Her jaw clenched.

“I’m not for sale, Rafael.”

“I never said you were,” he said, voice calm. “I want your time. Your help. Your mouth—” he paused, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “—your sharp mouth to keep the idiots I work with in line.”

She folded her arms. “And what exactly would I be doing as your ‘assistant’?”

“Scheduling meetings. Running interference. Talking to clients I don’t want to deal with. Occasionally telling me when I’m being an ass.”

“So… a glorified babysitter.”

“You’ll be well compensated.”

“And when you get bored of me?”

“I don’t get bored easily,” he said, stepping so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. “You’re not boring.”

Lena held her ground, chin high. “I don’t sleep with my boss.”

“I never asked you to.”

His voice was low, almost dangerous. But there was no lewdness in his eyes—only intensity. Like he was testing her strength with every word.

“You think I’m going to say yes because of the money.”

“I think you’re going to say yes because you’re smarter than your pride.”

Lena exhaled sharply and turned away. Her gaze landed on the massive oak desk, spotless except for a photo frame turned face-down.

She picked it up without thinking.

“Don’t—” he started.

But it was too late. She saw it—a younger Rafael, no older than sixteen, standing beside a stern older man in a grey suit. The boy in the photo looked… hollow.

Lena placed it back carefully.

“You hate him,” she said quietly.

Rafe’s eyes darkened. “He’s dead.”

“But you still hate him.”

Silence stretched between them like a drawn bow.

“Get out,” he said softly, his tone sharp and final.

She looked up. “What?”

“I don’t like people digging into me. Especially people who don’t know what they’re looking at.”

Lena swallowed hard, fighting the strange rush of guilt. She hadn’t meant to hit a nerve—but clearly, she had.

She stepped back. “Fine. This was a mistake anyway.”

She turned to leave.

“Lena.”

She paused, hand on the door.

“If you walk out now, you go back to scraping tips and counting coins,” he said. “You’ll keep breaking your back while the world eats you alive.”

“And working for you saves me from that?” she asked bitterly.

“No. But it gives you a weapon.”

She turned, eyes narrowed. “What kind of weapon?”

“My money. My name. My protection.” He stepped forward again, voice low and serious. “You don’t want to belong to anyone. I get that. But I’m offering you the chance to take control. Not just survive—win.”

Something about his tone made her chest tighten.

“You think you’re a savior?” she whispered.

“No,” he said, his eyes burning into hers. “I’m the devil. But I keep worse monsters away.”

Lena stared at him, every instinct screaming to run. But her gut—the one that had never let her down—whispered something else.

He was dangerous. But not to her.

Not unless she gave him her heart.

And she wouldn’t.

“Three-month trial,” she said.

His eyes flickered. “Excuse me?”

“You get me for three months. After that, I walk away clean. No strings. No mess.”

He nodded slowly. “Deal.”

“I want everything in writing.”

“Already done,” he said, pulling open a drawer and handing her a contract.

Of course.

She scanned it—salary, hours, expectations. Nothing sleazy. Nothing hidden.

Clean. Respectful.

She sighed and signed.

When she looked up, he was watching her with a look that made her stomach flutter and burn at the same time.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Just one rule,” he said, voice dropping.

She arched a brow. “Oh?”

“When I give an order, you don’t question it.”

She crossed her arms again. “That sounds like a setup.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m not your servant.”

“No,” he said, stepping close again. “You’re my equal. But you work for me. And I don’t like repeating myself.”

She stared up at him, chest rising.

“You’re a control freak.”

“I’m a man used to getting what he wants.”

“And what do you want right now?”

His eyes dropped to her lips for just a second.

And when he looked back up, something in him had shifted.

“More time,” he said.

The silence crackled between them like static.

Lena stepped back and grabbed the contract copy. “Then I guess we’ll see if you can handle me, boss.”

And with that, she walked out—head high, heart racing, heat prickling at the back of her neck.

She didn’t look back.

But she felt his gaze follow her all the way to the elevator.